


Silent Consequences

by perceptivefics



Series: Percy's Wholesale Earth C Shenanigans [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Dirk holds everyone's feelings against better judgment, Earth C (Homestuck), Friends With Benefits, Gen, Jade just holds everyone together (or tries to), M/M, Miscommunication, POV Second Person, Past Abuse, Slow Burn, nonbinary kankri, past Dirkjake
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-24
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-08 22:36:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13467993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/perceptivefics/pseuds/perceptivefics
Summary: It's Earth C and Kankri Vantas is alive on Jade's island, with nary a fucking clue what's left for him. He is an unplanned resident in a universe he was never meant to inherit.Basically my Magnum Opus on two things: Jake English's monumental stumbling block over past break-ups and his own lack of self-confidence. Beforan society and how it completely decimated Kankri's idea of a healthy relationship. MADE FOR EACH OTHER.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMAGINE MY SURPRISE TO DISCOVER THIS PAIRING ALREADY HAD A TAG????
> 
> It's one fic. One singular fic. Hats off to you, you brave beautiful bastard.
> 
> As appears to be the standard with literally everything I write, the first chapter is always pretty damn raw and feverishly completed at 6 in the morning because new fic spins my brain into overdrive. I'M READY TO GO. I WANNA FUCKIN ***GO.***
> 
> (pssst...this fic also features a trans john and nonbinary dave, among many other such headcanons. i just didn't include them in the story tags in case someone was looking for content specifically starring john or dave to avoid them getting disappointed)
> 
> (also the past abuse tag is almost exclusively in relation to Kankri)
> 
> additional Content Warning will be included chapter-by-chapter for anything that's situational enough to not warrant a story tag. enjoy!!
> 
>  **CW: suicidal ideation** (this is mostly a JIC for the very beginning? I'm not actually sure if it would apply given his circumstances.)

It’s difficult, at first, for you to put together the pieces of the puzzle that is the rest of the world around you. Time drips between your fingers like water, your brain no longer capable of comprehending linear progression after such a long age of existence in the bubbles. You can’t hear; you can’t see; you can _barely_ feel. There’s vague awareness of a cold lapping against your skin, a sound of gentle rushing foaming around your ears. The ground beneath you is hard and wet, yet it has a slight yield to the weight of your frame. It scratches at your skin with a rough texture you might find unpleasant, had you any faculties left to concentrate.

 

You don’t want to tune in to any of these things, really. You just want to sleep. You never could sleep, even after you were dead. When the inky darkness of nothing finally grabbed you by the soul, pulling you ever down into the sweet embrace of a forever-rest, you practically threw yourself into the well. _Just let me sleep,_ you thought. It’s not even that you were tired of existing; you were just _tired._ For millennia upon endless millennia, you wandered fractures and half-remembered timelines, slipping between the fissures of each reality with the others from your session. Not even by your choice, technically. Before that, there was SGRUB. And before _that,_ there was Beforus.

 

You never slept very much when you were alive, and you couldn’t close your eyes even for the enjoyment of it when you died.

 

Right now, your eyes are shut, your breathing is steady, and your heart rate is slow, and you want it to be this way forever. Even though your body is wet and cold and your sweater is soaked, sticking horribly to your skin, to wake up right now feels almost like going against the natural order. The gentle, lulling rhythm of the tides doesn’t help. (It’s the tides, you realize - the rushing sound at your ears and the cold that swells up and around you. Up to your chest, then down to your feet. Chest, feet. Chest, feet. _Swoooooooosh._ ) The cadence of it soothes you, despite the mental connections your brain makes between the ocean and the privileged elite.

 

They always took the little things for granted, didn’t they? Never could remove their heads from their own waste chutes long enough to…

 

Oh no. Oh God, no. You’re _thinking._

 

_Stop that._

 

Don’t think about the ocean. Don’t think about Beforus. Don’t think about _anything._ You’ve done so much thinking in your lifetime; so much thinking, so much talking. So much passion and fire on passages and footnotes of text that crushed the ears of everyone who listened and none of it ever _went_ anywhere. Why should you care what the hemocaste got up to when _there is no hemocaste anymore?_ There’s nothing to fight now. Nothing to look back on to learn from the annals of history, nothing to pour all of your supposed pre-destined _son of a bitch your moment is ruined._

 

As thoughts and feelings slowly ebb back into your brain, you - regrettably - catch yourself in an ongoing mental tangent that leaves a sour taste in your mouth. Waking up is such a chore. Death, it seems, has literally made you forget how to live, in the physical sense. It takes time for your body to adjust to being corporeal again. Sounds bubble to the surface of your senses clearer than before. The awful sensation of damp sand against your cheek makes your eyebrows pinch together and your mouth twist into a deep scowl. The cold crashes down, soaking you to the bone, and you shiver. The waves are no longer comforting.

 

From the second that your body starts to register sensation again, everything snowballs. The waking was gentle at first, but now no longer. The world rushes in all at once, saying it’s now or never. You can either open your eyes and succumb to what your body wants, or you can keep them shut, and risk slow death by drowning as the tide rolls in. Hunger clenches your gut like a vice as soon as you have the wherewithal to notice - stronger than anything you’ve ever felt. You are _starving._ Lifting yourself from the sand takes energy and motivation you’re not even entirely certain you possess.

 

Vaguely - it takes some seconds too long for it to register - you hear voices.

 

“Hey, John?” Female. You think. “I thought you were saying this one was dead?”

 

“Oh, fuck, would you look at that!” (This must be John.) “Hey, I mean, they were down when I got here. I poked at ‘im! Didn’t budge.”

 

“And you didn’t maaaaaybe think to check if they were breathing?”

 

“I thought they were a _corpse,_ Jade! Still looks like one anyway, even sitting up -”

 

“John! Don’t be rude! They can probably hear us, you know!”

 

“- I’m just saying, I’m not keen on getting that close to a dead person’s face to check if they’re actually, uh, _expired?_ Gives me the heebie-jeebies. So sue me. I went and got you, didn’t I?”

 

Opening your eyes is by far the most difficult task. It’s as you sit yourself up in the rolling tide that your brain finally picks up on how _bright_ it is; you smear the sand off your palms, onto your leggings, then rub at your eyelids harshly with a groan. Half of their conversation misses you entirely. Your mouth is almost as dry as the ground and it hurts to swallow. Oh, neat. It turns out not only are you hungrier than a starving hoofbeast, you are also _overwhelmingly_ parched.

 

“I guess that’s true, but I still think you’re kind of a jerk for just leaving them _laying there_ in the surf.”

 

“I did my due diligence! Man. Look at those horns. Familiar, much?”

 

“Think he’s at all related to Karkat?”

 

“I think so. Actually, I think I might know who this is.”

 

God, you may be awake and aware now, but the hunger and thirst and the _crushing knowledge of your apparent escape from death_ isn’t doing you any favors in speed.

 

“Poor thing.” The one with the higher pitch again. You blink once, twice, then immediately shut your eyes when the brightness sears into your retina. Which is around the same time that you finally register _it is daybreak and you are out in the goddamn sun._

 

Starvation be damned, your brain flies into a panic. Someone almost touches you and you swat their hand away, stumbling upright, prepared to make a break for it, but your traitor feet trip all over themselves. You hardly make it two steps before a pair of strong hands grab you, and then another pair. The worst possible additional offense on top of being in danger of literally cooking to death. It's way too many pairs of hands. It’s two pairs too many and you thrash around with your eyes squeezed shut, head down, pusher slamming against your ribcage. You feel the heat of the dreaded day-star on your back, burning into the fibers of your sea-wet sweater.

 

 _“Whoa_ there, take it easy!”

 

Your voice is harsh, cracked, and dry - not at all the powerhouse you always used to carry around. Tested to the limit by bodily needs and apparent lack of use in this physical form, but damn if you don’t find it in you to bark orders all the same. “Release me immediately!!”

 

“Stop!” The more lilting of the two voices exclaims, coming from somewhere to your right. “Calm down! You’re okay!”

 

“If it’s a body you’re wanting, you’ll have it if I don’t get out of the sun!” You snarl.

 

The deeper voice laughs from your left. _“That’s_ what you’re freaking out about?”

 

The flippance of their tone cuts straight to the heart of you and stokes the old fires that fueled your speeches. With less than two minutes of knowing this person and barely any brain power beyond raw instinct, you immediately decide you don’t like them. It’s John. You don’t like John.

 

You’re still struggling, but neither of them will let you go. You _snarl,_ the noise guttural and primal, sticking in your chest like a blanket of pins. The strength isn’t in you to overpower them, but good God do you try. “I don’t find sudden blindness or death by sun-baking _funny,”_ you snap.

 

“They don’t know where they are,” says the right voice, clearly disappointed. Jade. You like Jade much better.

 

Even if the combination of four strange, unpermitted hands anchoring you by the biceps is starting to make your skin crawl.

 

 _“He.”_ You hiss coldly, “Doesn’t know where _he_ is.” The correction is harsher than required, possibly. You can’t blame them for trying to be properly neutral. Except you’re panicking because you’re being touched and you’re in the sunlight, and no, you _really_ don’t know where you are. The people trapping you here clearly aren’t trolls, or else they would let you hurry up and get out of the light already, present unknown location aside. The names are too short and they know nothing of personal boundaries. Although that last one could also apply to trolls, under any other circumstances.

 

“Dude.” Says John, unperturbed. _“Relax._ You’re in no shape to be making a huge fuss like this.”

 

Your voice gives out on a few syllables as you try to shout in return. _“Let me go!_ I am a nocturnal creature and I _cannot_ be out at this time of day, I will _die!!”_

 

“No, seriously, listen, it’s fine!” Jade insists, and until the next few words leave her mouth, you choose to believe she’s lying. “It’s not the Alternian sun! It won’t hurt you, I promise!”

 

It’s not the name of your planet, but it still strikes close to home. The fact that Jade knows about Alternia at least gives her a credibility she didn’t have before - enough to get you to stop, if briefly. Opening your eyes is still out of the question, though.

 

Your head tilts carefully in Jade’s direction.

 

“That got his attention,” John remarks. You ignore him.

 

“Repeat that.”

 

Jade obliges you without question. “It’s high noon on our planet right now, but it’s not strong enough to hurt you. We have troll friends who walk around during the day all the time. Even though they’re not all rainbow drinkers!”

 

Still doesn’t take care of the full rolling boil of terror knotting up in your chest, though it’s better than nothing. Brings it down to about a simmer. Even with the reassurance, you still don’t dare open your eyes. Just to be on the safe side. “What planet is this?”

 

“It’s Earth C, man.” John answers, with a bit of flourish, “Welcome to post-game paradise.”

 

Earth. Earth _C._ Something clicks in the deep recesses of your thinkpan, buried under all the muck and grime of eternity in the bubbles. Earth was the world spawned off Alternia’s failure, near as you can recall, but you’re not quite sure how there came to be three iterations of it. Game nonsense, probably. Not your session. Not your problem. One way or another, you’re on Earth. Not Beforus. Not Alternia.

 

After thinking on it for a moment, the urge to break away into the nearest tree cover is gone, but your body is still tense. Gritting your teeth, you repeat: “Let me go.”

 

 _“Buddy,”_ says John, as if advising the opposite.

 

“I’m not going to run,” you explain in a throaty growl. “I just don’t want to be touched. _Please_ let me go.”

 

Thankfully, they grant your request - John without a sound, and Jade with a small _oops, sorry!_ as her hold leave your arm. Aaaaand then you go crashing to your hands and knees again. The pitiful overtones of the situation are by no means lost on you, although you’re loathe to consider how _weak_ you must be if you were relying so much on the help of two strangers to keep you on your feet.

 

“Oh, no!” Jade exclaims the moment you hit the sand. You feel fingers on your shoulder. You jerk away.

 

_“Don’t!”_

 

“Are you sure?” She asks. “It looks like you can’t even walk!”

 

“I’m just…” the words halt right before they start to leave your tongue. The hesitance isn’t without reason. Being so vulnerably open would spell certain death for any sensible troll - especially one like you. Still, they haven’t shown you any serious ill will. Ignorance can be forgiven in time. “I’m just tired,” you say. _Weak_ is too truthful. Saying it feels unconscionable. “I’m not an invalid.”

 

John, from somewhere now in front of you, makes a very forward declaration which makes your blood run just a little hotter. Which is kind of out of your hands. It’s a knee-jerk reaction. “Yeeeep,” he says, _“definitely_ a Vantas.”

 

Did you hear his name before now? It doesn’t matter. It’s too soon. That entire avenue is a dead end you want no part of for the moment. Bitterness soaks your tongue as you snip back: “I am _nothing_ like Karkat.”

 

“Are you sure about that?” Asks John. “You’re just about as stubborn. The guy still can’t take a helping hand even if he’s like, _literally_ on fire.”

 

At a loss for anything especially witty - the nuances of speech escape you for the time being - you settle for a stark one-liner instead. “Bite me.”

 

John laughs, and you hate how it sounds. “Snarky, too!”

 

The remark is enough to fuel your drive to independence based on sheer willpower alone. While Jade spends some time once again reprimanding her companion for his crude manner, you gather up every ounce of yourself that you can, concentrating on standing. It takes far too long; your body feels much heavier than it should be. Your sweater hangs red and hot and wet on your frame, three sizes too big and unbelievably itchy as the salt water dries into the fibers. Muttering absent complaints to none but yourself, you start to pull it off over your head - if slowly. There are no complaints from the two who discovered you until you’ve practically finished the job.

 

 _“Whoaaaa, hoh, hoh,_ waaaait a minute!” John cries, as you peel the scratchy red garment of oppression off of your arms. You’re in nothing but your corset and leggings now, although it’s all one piece by appearance anyway. (Porrim’s insistence yet again, demanding you inject a little bit of something physically attractive into your clothing. You only agreed because corsets happened to be right within your boundaries of aesthetic.)

 

Though that seems to be precisely the issue at hand. “Put your titties away, man. You can’t just have those things all floppin’ around in the open!”

 

Irritation curls in your throat. By the grace of the gods, Jade steps in before your significantly less forgiving reprimand can rise to the surface. “Oh, my God. They’re just boobs, John.”

 

John’s voice is now projecting in a totally different direction for reasons you are almost positive you can pinpoint, even with your eyes closed. “Yeah, and they’re boobs that I really don’t wanna see!”

 

You give an incredibly laboring sigh in response. Somehow, although it takes almost all your focus to stand upright without swaying, you find the energy to pinch the bridge of your nose. Heaven help grant you the patience to weather this idiotic tomfoolery. “My sweater is wet and I have nothing else to wear.”

 

“Sure, but couldn’t you at least keep it on until we can get you in the house?” He begs.

 

Jade huffs in his direction. “What are you, twelve?”

 

“Look,” John argues, “All I’m saying is I’m only fond of one pair of boobs, and that’s _my_ boobs, and I specifically had my surgery done so they could be _less boob-like.”_

 

“You like Scarlett Johansson’s boobs!”

 

“Alright, _two_ pairs of boobs,” he relents.

 

Sweet holy hell. “Will both of you _please_ stop saying the word _boobs?”_ You groan. It doesn’t even sound like anything anymore. It’s just a collection of syllables spear phishing your thinkpan, probing for how to annoy you in ways you never thought possible.

 

“I can!” Jade says, then taking the time to add, “As soon as John stops acting like he’s _barely out of puberty.”_

 

John’s voice vaguely filters in your direction once again, though not without some hesitance. You can _hear_ the discomfort in his voice as he sucks air between his teeth. “Still not fond of seein’ ‘em.”

 

Oh, for heaven’s sake. You roll your eyes under your lids - and end up blinking involuntarily, which leads to more blinking. You realize, as you lift your head to speak, that you might finally be adjusting to the light. It doesn’t hurt - that much is true. But you’re still not used to how goddamn _bright_ everything is. Little else is in your power for the moment other than focusing on the two people in front of you. “Does the exposure of my secondary physical features cause you any discomfort relating to personal struggles or matters of dysphoria?”

 

Any other day, asking such a thing would leave you with a tone of concern. But right now, you can only feel _wholly_ annoyed.

 

The first face you see is John’s as you continue to blink repeatedly, until you can at least squint to see without any struggle. John is human. John is about your height, fat, has tan skin and dark hair, and really seems to like the color blue. He also seems to require extra time to percolate an answer while you look over at Jade. She’s significantly taller, fatter than John, and has darker skin and longer black hair. It coils and whorls about her head and shoulders in tight twists. Only a pair of white dog ears breaks up the thick cloud of curls as she regards you with a sweet smile.

 

John gives his answer just as you notice Jade also has a tail, which is wagging, which leaves you to question just how much of her is still human. “I mean, uhhh - no? Not really? I’m not freaking out like _that -”_

 

You cut him off, turning to give him a frank glare. “Then unless you’d like to volunteer your clean, dry shirt, the sweater stays off.”

 

He looks positively heartbroken. He burbles out an unintelligible noise of complaint. “Uuuunnnnhh?!”

 

You repeat back to him, slowly, and with purpose: “The sweater. _Stays. Off.”_

 

John hangs his head, shielding his eyes with one hand in defeat as he turns away from you. And that’s that. _Thank fuck._

 

Jade clasps her hands behind her back, radiating warmth and compassion. Not that you trust it with a fifty-foot pole, in all honesty. Again, the most you can say is at the very least, neither of them have tried to coddle or outright kill you. Makes them permissible. _Tolerable._ Not necessarily _friendly._

 

“Are you hungry?” She asks. “You look like you’re pretty dehydrated, too. We’ve got clean, fresh water. You want some?”

 

It’s pretty safe to say that never was there a moment before this one where you felt so grateful. “Both sound _divine,”_ you sigh. Hunger pains snap through your abdomen again as your insides growl. “Would you also possibly have some clothes I could borrow?”

 

“Are you okay with some of my old pajamas?” Jade wonders.

 

“I don’t care,” you say, which is the truth. And now that you’ve more or less settled into your own skin, you’re aware of your hunger, your thirst, and one other important thing. “I just want to be _clean.”_

 

“I’ll let you use my bath, then, too.”

 

“I appreciate that.”

 

After a rather pregnant pause, John breaks in again, still while avoiding looking directly at you. Let him act the awkward fool if he wants, you suppose. “Sooo, now that we’ve got that all squared away, can we get something else established? Really super important. Pretty sure the answer’s already obvious, but it’s good to make sure.”

 

 _Now_ what? You regard him with a look you know is probably the greatest Resting Bitch Face you’ve ever put on. “What is it.”

 

John rocks back on his heels, then forward on his toes. He settles flat, wiggling into the sand as if planting himself, one hand going to his hip. “You’re Kankri Vantas, right?”

 

It baffles you why he would even bother to ask if he already suspected. Presumably, being in league with Karkat would make the connection apparent enough. That alone warrants you giving him a hard time.

 

“And what if I am?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **CW: allusions to past abuse; body image issues; food-heavy imagery**
> 
>  
> 
> Kankri continues to settle in with the idea of being alive again.

You don’t actually realize how  _ gaunt  _ you are until such time as you are sitting at Jade’s kitchen table, voraciously devouring everything that she puts down.

 

The first thing she does, before anything else, is offer a glass of water: cold, clean, fresh,  _ wonderful  _ water. Thirst grabs your body by the gut even harder than before. You grab it and chug it all in one shot, and the only thing that makes you hesitate is setting it down and asking for more.

 

When you do, it’s the skinniness of your hand that strikes you, becoming a distraction as Jade fills the glass again with a laugh and only a slightly worried look. You look at both hands, splaying the digits wide, moving them absently in observation. The defined lines of the finger-bones are visible beneath dry, pallid gray skin. Your body is cracked and peeled, bits and flakes hanging on like dandruff in patches - like you arose mid-molt and never quite finished shirking the older flesh. Even the chitin plates on your forearms are in poor form, dull in color and devoid of their usual matte lustre. Concentration breaks from the hands and moves to other parts of you as you palm your arms, your neck. The taut plane of your sternum. The sag of your breasts. The hollows of your cheeks. Perhaps it’s a good thing Jade used her space powers to teleport the three of you into her hive; had you been left to your own devices, walking would have been a struggle, yet doable. But you probably would have fallen right out of your clothes after just a few steps. Items which once fit your body like a dream now scrunch and bundle awkwardly at the joints, and even if you undid the laces and cinched them as tight as they could bear, you would still have room to wiggle inside the corset.

 

A mirror is not required to understand the severity of your physical state. It’s little wonder John assumed you were a corpse washed ashore. You certainly do look the part.

 

Jade taking you back to her hive - that towering white structure you spied from the beach when you cared to look up - was what gave the hint that you are among two newborn gods of this universe. It is explained in time that Jade was their space player, and not only that, but that the reason behind the dog ears and tail is because she somehow ended up combined with Earth’s First Guardian. Were you certain she meant to use any of this against you, the resulting fear of her spring-coiled in your ribcage would be incalculable. As it stands, there’s only enough care left to make note of it and proceed with caution.

 

John was a breath player - like one bright, bronze-blooded troll who sifts to the front of your thoughts for a spell before slipping away beneath the undertow hunger. He tells you as much himself, though he isn’t eager to show off his abilities. It matters not once you have food. You are ashamed of your own lack of manners or precaution - you don’t even know if any human food is edible to a troll - but you’re just so fucking  _ hungry  _ that you cannot stand it.

 

The first bowl Jade brings you is the bowl she spends explaining who they are. It isn’t that you fail to listen; just that you can listen as much as you can eat, and it’s impossible to pull your majority focus from the food. It’s lots of fruits and lettuce, thrown together into a salad. Plant food. Trolls don’t really sustain on a green diet much of the time, but you can’t find it in you to correct her. It’s juicy and colorful and cold and so  _ sweet  _ that it makes you salivate just  _ looking  _ at it.

 

Jade asks if you want any dressing. The question flies right out the window as you grab the fork provided and all but inhale the contents. Only the barest thread of self-worth keeps you from shoveling it all down directly from hand to mouth. John puts his hands up, backing away from the kitchen table. When Jade loses the ability to keep conversation (mostly because you haven’t said a word to her since she started talking), they both just watch for a while in silent awe. The gawking would be deeply offensive any other time, but you have other things to worry about. Things which you are currently hovering over at the table, dragging the bowl close under your chin, head low, until it’s been completely cleared.

 

“ _ Jesus,”  _ says John, tone mildly concerned. “How long’s it been since you even ate?”

 

A grunt of appreciation escapes as you wipe your mouth on your palm, feeling the meal of leaves and fruits settling in your belly. You don’t even hear him. Even if you did, you wouldn’t be able to provide an actual answer.

 

Immediately after eating, life and vigor flood your muscles and veins like a tidal wave. The endorphins that follow are so overpowering that for a moment there’s a euphoric dizziness in your pan, and all you did was finish a fucking  _ salad. _ Sucking a stray thread of juice off your fingers causes you to sigh at even the slightest pang of taste on your tongue. For a few seconds - and a few seconds only - the insurmountable starvation is sated. But then the body registers that it’s being fed; and if you thought you were hungry  _ before… _

 

You look up, bright red eyes locking with Jade’s green ones. She appears to startle under the intensity of your stare, but holds fast and watches carefully. After a pause spent searching the depths of your primal desires for what would do the job quick and efficient-like, you speak.

 

“Meat.”

 

Okay, so - that was  _ supposed  _ to be a complete sentence. Maybe with some good manners tossed on there.  _ Thank you Jade for your kindness, that was very delicious. Would it be possible to perhaps have a steak of some sort? I understand that humans have steaks. _

 

But, no. Of course not. Eons after wandering lost with the dreaming, waking up, and having your first meal in a corporeal form, the only thing you can say to convey your hunger is... _ meat.  _ Grunting. Like an animal. You were perfectly understandable even at the height of panic on the beach, but put food in the mix and apparently you become nothing but an empty sack of organs begging for consumption. Shame swells in every fiber of your being and thank God Jade understands after a moment of shock, rising to the occasion by scooting hastily out of her chair.

 

“John, get Bessie out.” Who or what  _ Bessie  _ is, precisely, is a little lost on you, but John blinks a few times in surprise at the request before heading for a cabinet. You see Jade pulling out a huge, thick, fatty, red slab of steak from the refrigerator and  _ God.  _ If you were any hungrier you would have crossed the kitchen outright just to take it from her hands and devour it  _ raw. _

 

“And do what?” John asks, the two of them conversing around you as you sit, frozen by your own growling stomach. Your eyes are surely the size of dinner plates. Big, sharp predator’s eyes, stalking a prey that’s already dead, proper societal behavior be damned.

 

“Put her on the stove and get out a cutting board and that rub you made.”

 

“Which one?” John sets a massive, obviously well-used cast-iron skillet on the stove before searching for the cutting board.

 

“Oh, that’s right!” Jade exclaims, washing her hands at the sink before tearing open the plastic packaging. Fuck.  _ Fuuuuck.  _ You can  _ smell it _ from the table. You are  _ so  _ hungry. “I don’t know, what was the one you used last week?”

 

John levitates off the floor to reach a higher cabinet with ease, grabbing a mason jar filled with spices that he inspects in confusion before handing it to Jade. “Fuck, I dunno. Pretty sure it’s this one.” He stops, taking the jar back and opening it to give it a sniff. “Yeah, it’s this one. Here.”

 

“Thanks! Now get another pan and some eggs and wash your hands.”

 

“Cool, that - wait. Why am I washing my hands?!”

 

“Because you’re going to help,” replies Jade, as though the answer is obvious.

 

Visibly put out, John scrunches his nose. “Seriously?”

 

Jade turns her head as she works and looks at you, ignoring his complaints. “How do you feel about eggs, Kankri?”

 

In the absence of any other food, the glass of water has gravitated up to your mouth again. While John bemoans his predicament, being volun-told into the position of assistant chef, you answer: “Can I eat them?”

 

Which is a stupid question. Surely they aren’t trying to poison you. You really should be more careful about what you’re putting in your body regardless, but - fuck it. Anything is better than nothing right now.

 

“You won’t die, if that’s what you mean!” Jade says patiently. “Our troll buddies eat ‘em all the time. You like eggs?”

 

Your eyes are stuck on the steak Jade is preparing as she heats up the skillet, but the suggestion of more food keeps you at least half-engaged in conversation. “Yes.” The word leaves on auto-pilot. In actuality, you don’t even know if you  _ do  _ like the eggs that humans eat, but damn if you aren’t going to have some.

 

“How many you want?”

 

You groan when trying to quantify the number of eggs needed to satisfy the growing monster in your stomach.

 

“Okaaaaay.” Jade says, “So, I’m gonna assume that means  _ six  _ and if you want more, we’ll make you more, yeah?”

 

* * *

 

John and Jade have to work  _ hard  _ to keep the food coming. It’s absolutely humiliating and you feel terrible about it, but any time an apology even starts to bubble up, Jade stops you. “You just eat until you’re full, Kankri!” She says. “We have more money than we know what to do with anyway, so restocking is no problem!”

 

And eat you do, even with the embarrassment of your semi-feral behavior. Sometimes John pokes fun at it, sizing up your stomach whenever he puts down another plate. “Got room for one more? Man, you’re like a regular vacuum! Got a hollow leg or something?”

 

You never bother to answer. But when he makes the mistake of (mid-meal, it should be mentioned) physically prodding at your stomach, a primal defensive reaction flares up sharp and doesn’t release until you  _ snarl,  _ nearly stabbing his arm with your fork. John decides that joking about your hunger isn’t funny anymore after that. Jade laughs, though - says he shouldn’t poke an angry bear.

 

The hunger doesn’t slow down for several servings, more or less eating Jade out of house and home. By the time you’re finally clear-headed enough to act more civilized, you’ve eaten: one salad, four steaks, eighteen eggs, several helpings of a starchy food which Jade calls “hash”, and an entire half-gallon tub of ice cream. Not including all of the water you drank. Your stomach is almost comically huge in your lap, which you choose to believe is due to the uncharacteristic state of your body. A pile of dishes has manifested beside your place at the table. Technically, had it crossed your mind at all, you would have cracked open the bare steak bones left behind and sucked out the marrow.

 

The kitchen still smells like spices and food when - at  _ long fucking last  _ \- your stomach tells you that it can’t possibly fit any more. John left long ago, citing that the sight of watching the marathon was starting to make him feel sick, but Jade stayed. She sits to your left, ears perked and tail wagging, finger-combing her curly twists out of the way so they don’t get caught in the plate from her proximity. You don’t actually notice until you blink down and see her arm is almost touching yours.

 

Slowly swallowing down the last melting bite of ice cream from the tub, you give Jade a sluggish glance. “If you don’t mind,” - God, even  _ speaking  _ feels like too much effort now, you’re so full of food - “I would prefer it if you could keep out of my space.”

 

“Oh!” Jade looks down, then up, and scoots her chair away. Eight inches of space blossom between your arms and she watches you for approval. “Sorry! Is that better?”

 

It isn’t quite perfect - now you are remembering just how  _ wide  _ a bubble you cast for personal space around others - but it’s more than you had, and it’s tolerable so long as she doesn’t try to touch without asking. “It’s acceptable. Thank you.”

 

“Yeah, sure!” Jade, with a big-toothed smile, starts whirling strands of hair around her fingers. “Sorry, I get real touchy-feely sometimes. John doesn’t mind it, but he says I should be more careful around some of the other trolls. You like your space, that’s no problem!”

 

“...It wasn’t out of any malice,” you admit calmly. The heat and weight of your belly is making you lethargic. “Which is more than I can say for some.”

 

Jade beams. She’s a very cheerful sort, it seems. Never running out of smiles. “Just tell me if I ever do anything that makes you uncomfortable, okay?”

 

At first, you start to respond verbally, but instead stop to cover your mouth when a soft belch is what comes out instead. Being mutant-blooded, you are already a naturally warm troll, but now your face is  _ burning.  _ Jade only giggles while you crease your eyebrows together and groan, “I am  _ so  _ sorry. I’m not normally like this.”

 

“It’s okay! It’s tough to come back from the dead!”

 

“Mmmm.” Your face pinches and creases in displeasure. It’s difficult to argue that point, but couldn’t your body, at the very least, come back not quite so wasted away? How long will you have to live like this? How long until you are eating normally, sleeping normally, living for your own wants and needs rather than striving for the basic levels of nourishment?

 

“Do you know how you ended up on my beach?” Jade asks. The question almost seems random until you realize there was no room for conversation when you were busy stuffing your face. Unfortunately, it’s a hard question to answer - glancing back, she only watches you with curiosity, playing with her hair as her tail swings lazily behind her. “Or on Earth, I guess. ‘Cause it’s kind of, uh, unusual? You’re one of the...oh, what did Karkat call it. You’re one of the alpha trolls, right? From, uh…” she stops a moment, clearly struggling. “I guess because you’re from Alternia’s alpha timeline?”

 

“Beforus,” you supply, on instinct. It feels strange to say the name. It sticks to your tongue like glue. “In my timeline, our planet was called Beforus. But yes. When we scratched our session, it resulted in the timeline that created Alternia.”

 

For a moment, Jade appears confused, but she seems to pick up quickly. “Right, that one! We don’t really have any other trolls from Beforus. You’re the first one we’ve seen!”

 

You…

 

Actually. You’re not sure how you feel about that.

 

“Am I?”

 

“Yeah!” Jade exclaims. After a pause, however, her expression wavers. “But, um, I dunno, maybe there would be others? I bet I could help you find your friends -”

 

Immediately, you cut her off, wiping your mouth on a paper napkin and looking away. “That won’t be necessary.”

 

She falters, her ears pinning back. “Oh - um...are you sure?”

 

“They aren’t really my friends,” you say, which is as much information as you are willing to give. It’s true enough for the most part: a lot of the trolls from your session weren’t really  _ friends.  _ Barely even confidantes. And anyway, the few that you did manage to get close to probably aren’t on this planet. There’s no use in getting your hopes up. More than likely, your resurrection is some kind of random glitch. An anomaly. Something pulled up from the bubbles, and just...spat out into the ocean.

 

_ Why  _ that happened, you haven’t a single fucking clue. But it’s not something you have the power to reverse in any case. Seer-type blood powers are...something, but their meaning and use was always a little hazy. And you never reached god tier in your session regardless. You’re a byproduct. Not a god.

 

Jade is very obviously disheartened by your words, her whole posture falling in disappointment. When she bounces back, it’s in a very clear attempt to control the shift of mood. “Well, uh, that’s okay! If you don’t want to go looking, you can...I dunno. Do you know if you wanna go anywhere?”

 

The question makes you frown in consideration, and it doesn’t take long at all to respond. “I’m not even sure of where I would go.”

 

She immediately reassures you. “That’s okay! If you don’t know, then you can stay here! Heck, I’ve definitely got the room! Uh…” Jade laughs awkwardly. “Maybe not the spare furniture, but that’s a quick fix! I could set something up for you quick and easy, I bet! Would that work for you?”

 

It’s unsettling to you how quick she is to try and brighten your mood, to provide for you basic things that are required for living. It takes effort to remind yourself that the circumstances are different. You woke up on a strange island, on a strange  _ planet.  _ No resources. Severely malnourished. Not like you were led to her in the back of a transport vehicle, sedated or otherwise intimidated into submission for her to mold you into whatever she wants.

 

Your response is calculated. “I think that arrangement could be beneficial for the time being.”

 

It seems to please Jade enough. Her tail wags vigorously as she straightens her posture. “Are you done with food for now?”

 

Relieved, shoulders sagging: “Yes. I didn’t mean to eat so much.”

 

“I told you, it’s fine!” She insists. “I can show you up to my bath. If you really want, we can tour the tower later, but I’m guessing you really wanna clean up. So while you do that, I’ll set you up for a room and all that?”

 

“That would be lovely.”

 

Jade pushes out of her chair, hopping down, weirdly excited to show you up. You’re slower to follow, but she’s as patient as she is enthusiastic. Her tower, apparently equipped with transporters, allows for fast travel between floors - she shows you as much and lets you use the teleportation pad on the current floor before warping up herself with no added assistance. She’s already waiting for you at the base of the stairs leading to her room after you’ve moved, and happily guides you while you struggle to keep your clothes from sliding off your body.

 

Her room is marked floor to ceiling with a childish whimsy that, for whatever reason, makes your heart ache - and you aren’t quite sure if it’s a covetous moment of weakness, or something else. Something deeper and more complicated which you are loathe to analyze when a hot bath is only a few steps away. Stepping over piles of toys and scattered little inventions, Jade stops only to dig through her dresser and closet for a change of clothes and a towel, respectively. She provides both after you’ve had a moment to absorb the human decor. Her bathroom isn’t much different, but trades out the eye-popping greens and earthy trim of her bedroom for pastel blues and delicate, faded yellows. Hand-painted wall art of trees and underbrush and forest critters is traded out for jellyfish and clams, and the occasional caricatures of squiddles. Always tangled together in pairs.

 

She asks if you’re familiar with how human bathtubs work, and after a quick observation, you determine you should be able to figure it out. It’s fancier than the ones you’re used to, but the mechanisms are all the same.

 

Clutching your given supplies to your chest, you stand in place in the ablution block after Jade leaves, telling you she’ll be back in a little while and to holler if you need anything. And that you have free reign to use any of her supplies, so long as you don’t exhaust the bubble bath. Underneath the artificial hum of fluorescent lights, you stare down at the pristine white bathtub, then carefully unfurl your arms. The pajamas are placed atop the leaf-green towel. They are also green, and printed with cute little pictures of hopbeasts and doebeasts. They’re  _ so  _ far out of your style, and only now do you feel an automatic twinge of disgust at the idea of borrowing something like this - particularly from someone so eager to take care of you. But, beggars can’t be choosers.

 

Going through the process of drawing a bath, you neatly set the towel on top of the toilet lid, the pajamas on the corner of the sink. After discovering the overhead lights are controllable, you slide the dimmer switch until everything is bathed in a faded shade of amber; barely enough light for the average human to see by. It keeps you from looking too hard in the mirror at the ghastly visage of your body. You squirt an herbal-smelling bubble mixture into the water for the same reason, having seen enough from your hands and arms and how your stomach looks like it’s pasted on when your eyes wander down to your feet.

 

One day, you’ll be able to wear your own clothes again without looking like a rumpled sack of skin and cloth. For now, you focus on completing the next step of feeling like an actual person. You’ve eaten plenty of food. Now you need to scrub off all the dead skin and sea salt and make your hair nice and soft again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kankri has a _slight_ moment, and Jade's just trying her best.
> 
> **CW: unintentional misgendering, nervous breakdown**

**A While Later**

* * *

 

A firm, but cautious jostling of his shoulder is the thing that eventually causes John to stir from the deep recesses of nap-time he had fallen into. It’s not enough to completely lift the fog of rest, but it makes him at least vaguely aware of noises - and the fact that he is still on one of Jade’s couches in the foyer, borrowed comforter tossed lazily over his body. The second time he is shaken, he grunts to express acknowledgment, however brief.

 

“John?” A male voice whispers at him, slightly raised - wanting to be heard, but wishing not to upset him so. “Terribly sorry to interrupt, old friend, but have you seen Jade about?”

 

Immediately, John recognizes the fanciful talk, and his eyebrows crinkle together on his forehead. He pulls up the covers, wholeheartedly losing the enthusiasm to engage. He is still tired - for many reasons, both physically and emotionally - and waking up was not on his To-Do list for at least another few hours.

 

His unwelcome visitor has other plans, however. “I do apologize for disrupting your rest, but I just want to be sure I am not simply barging in unannounced.”

 

John lets out a soft groan, then yawns. “Jade’s  _ around,”  _ he supplies. Hoping, possibly in vain, that it would get the visitor to leave.

 

Relief from the voice is instant. “Oh, splendid! Where might I find her?”

 

“She’s busy,” John grumbles.

 

“Hmmm. Fudge. Then, ah, won’t you tell her I’m popping in?”

 

“Uh-huh.” The Heir mutters absently, now covering his head with the heavy down comforter. “Sure. Knock yourself out.”

 

A companionable pat on his shoulder that he wasn’t expecting causes John to grouse and moan again in complaint. The visitor, apparently unaware of his offense, answers brightly: “Good man! Love that I can count on you. Well, I’m off to see to my room then. Carry on!”

 

John just pulls the covers down tighter, and ignores the sound of the teleporter zamming the visitor to the next floor.

 

* * *

 

Within seconds of your initial entry, it became obvious that the tower’s structure was the same, but everything inside it had shifted dramatically. For one, the fact that it isn’t completely overgrown with vines and other plants from Gram’s old garden is already a departure from what you’re used to. But even beyond that, nothing which filled the space before is present where you would expect them to be. Surely a trophy or two, you figure, but Jade seems to have done away with the lot of them - if the tower being resurrected on Earth C hadn’t done the job already. And on the outside? No lusii! No beastly white things to hunt, no swarms of tinkerbulls to tackle you with snuffles and kisses, no risk to death from stepping outside. Back to the sport of good old-fashioned hunting, you suppose, if the mood really strikes you.

 

A long time ago - months by now - Jade approached you and asked if you would be interested in visiting the old tower home. At the time, you refused. Prospit just appealed more in the moment; and besides, you were rather reticent to backtrack to a place where you spent so much time alone and isolated from what you could have had. It’s not that you disliked growing up on your island; but one must admit, now that there’s been a taste of being among common company, it’s far more preferable than waking up solitary and staring at the same ceiling every single day.

 

Now you’ve been struck by the desire to go back to exactly that, though. Oddly enough. Still, you figure that even with all the differences you’ve checked off on the list, your room must be relatively unchanged, no?

 

Yes, expecting to see the same slapped-up movie posters, the same tacky fancy bed, the same worn old computer desk, and perhaps a non-vine-choked window is exactly what’s on the menu when the teleporter takes you to the bottom of the stairs leading up to your bedroom door. Things might be quite a departure now from the way Jake English once lived his life in childhood, but were you to count on anything at all, you are positive you can count on the certainty of the comforts of nostalgia. Absolutely nothing exists to the contrary to convince you otherwise.

 

Right up until you throw open the unlocked door and see a lanky little troll about your height, bare-bones naked  _ in the middle of your room. _

 

Both of you end up exclaiming at once in alarm: you, from walking in suddenly on the sight of a naked stranger. They (she?) from being walked in on, hastily clutching a set of cutesy green pajamas against her (their??) body. Immediately, for sake of propriety and everything else, one of your hands flies up by the side of your face to act as a blinder while you quickly avert your gaze, flustered all to pieces.

 

“OH, MY! Land sakes, I am  _ so  _ sorry! I honestly didn’t think anyone would be in here!!”

 

With a deeper tone of voice than you were truly expecting, the troll cries out: “Who the hell are you?!” And then, as you stammer over a response, hesitantly turning your head and then looking away again, she (he???) snaps, “Never mind just get out!”

 

There’s no time or room to parse out whether the voice is more masculine or feminine or something more in-between. You spend far too long being torn between the instinct to flee the space and the desire to try and work out this situational snafu in a civil interaction. Plus, it’s dawning on you as you spend so much time staring at the floor that your room has changed more than you expected.  _ A lot  _ more, actually. In fact, when you try to get a glimpse, it looks nothing at all like what you had. Too many cute things and scattered engineering projects everywhere.

 

“Did you not hear me?!” The troll cries, her (???) voice escalating in volume as she backs away from your general location, still censoring her body with her clothes. “I told you to  _ get out!!” _

 

Oh, balls, you completely spaced out for a moment didn’t you? Keeping your eyes down, you put your hands up and start moving back step by step. “Yes! Yes, I’m sorry! It’s just that I noticed a few things and I was going to ask -”

 

“I don’t care!  _ Get out!” _

 

“- It’s only that this was once -”

 

“Get out  _ get out GET OUT -” _

 

“- Alright but if perhaps you could let me know -”

 

Something plush and oblong, with dozens of tangled-up arms, squeaks and smacks you square in the shoulder. It hurts more than you’re expecting because of something heavy and solid in the middle of the entanglement.

 

“OW!”

 

You look down, barely recognizing that it is in fact a set of magnetic tangle buddies just as a second set goes flying straight for your face. The next hit strikes you in the temple with another squeak, knocking your glasses off-kilter, and you see the troll reaching for a third.

 

_ “OUT!! GET OUT!!” _

 

Now you have an arm up to protect yourself as well as doing your damndest to fumble for the doorknob behind you. “Now wait just a moment, there’s no need for such  _ violence -” _

 

She catches you with the third set of tangle buddies, which hits your  _ elbow -  _ and dead-on with the magnet too - steaming  _ fucking  _ sassafras that hurts. Even underneath all the squiddle arms, those magnets pack a startling punch!

 

_ “LEAVE!!!” _

 

You practically leap out and shut the door quickly, pressing your back against it as you stand in the outside hallway. You stay there, wide-eyed with shock, as a  _ thump  _ and another cutesy squeak hit the other side of the door. You push your glasses up on your nose from where they fell askew.

 

WELL that went and blew up right in your face, didn't it! Now what are you to do? A strange naked troll in the space that  _ used  _ to be your room, and it would seem that the room is now actually  _ Jade’s  _ room. How long has she been staying here, precisely?! You were aware she had departed Prospit in order to retreat to more familiar ground for a little while, but that was several months ago - maybe even a year? - by now, you figured she would have left! And what’s with taking the only space in the tower that used to be your  _ ohhhhhhh it was Jade’s room in HER timeline  _ that. That actually. Makes a lot of sense, now that you think about it. Blast it. Perhaps when she asked if you fancied a visit, you should have specified that you wanted to keep that room.

 

Nothing to do about it now, anyway. The room can be addressed in due time; for now, maybe smoothing over meets and greets with the poor frightened thing behind the door. In immediate hindsight, it may be against better judgment to tackle it right away, but then again, you’ve already given a shy knock and the guilt won’t stop eating at you until you’ve at least tried to make amends.

 

The reply is almost immediate, muffled and bitter. “Go away!”

 

After a moment to gather up the courage, you grimace, and try to answer. “Uhh - pardon me, Miss?” Your voice is just loud enough to be heard, though shouting is out of the question. No need to startle her further - not that you can blame her for being upset in the first place! The last thing she was expecting was a strange man walking in on her in her birthday suit!

 

You continue: “I really am sorry, it wasn’t my intention to disrupt you getting dressed! Perhaps we could start off o -”

 

_ “SIR!!” _

 

Your whole brain grinds to a halt. “- On the - on, what?”

 

Another distant, angry shout. “I am a  _ sir,  _ you rude, insufferable barkbeast!”

 

_ Sakes alive.  _ The pieces all fall into place, and now the embarrassment is  _ really  _ setting in. So not only have you put this poor man in a terribly uncomfortable position, but you went and gaffed up his gender, too. “Oh, oh, no no no that’s my mistake! I apologize - sir! I mean no offense!”

 

“Honestly!” He snarls, seething, “if humans are so insistent on a primitive and outdated binary gender system, the very least you could do is acknowledge the ones that you have!! It’s insulting enough that I’m forced to categorize myself into a stupid little box for your convenience! And if you even  _ think  _ about asking me to let you in here, I’ll call for Jade!”

 

Part of you wants to ask what his problem is with human gender categories - he  _ is  _ aware it’s fully acknowledged now there’s more than just “boy” and “girl,” surely? - but that seems like a sidebar for another time. Particularly with the more pressing issue of trying to calm him down before he _ flips his whole freaking top. _ He’s an  _ extremely  _ tough customer; bordering on being a total asshole, but, you try to give him the benefit of the doubt. You have no idea what his life’s been like, after all.

 

“Listen.” Trying again, and praying for no further furious interruptions: “I completely understand why you’re upset, and I’m quite beside myself with shame at the moment, I assure you! I only came up here because, uh, you see, at one point in time the room you’re in was  _ mine?  _ So I just thought perhaps -”

 

“Thought  _ what?  _ Thought you could just  _ waltz up  _ without maybe asking around first?!”

 

You wince. “- Well, see, in  _ my  _ timeline it was  _ my  _ room, but in  _ Jade’s  _ timeline it was  _ her  _ room. It’s - haha - really, this is all my fault, it’s the silliest little mix-up. Months old by now -”

 

“What’s your name?” Snips the troll, causing you to sputter mid-sentence and trail off before picking up again with an answer.

 

“- And...uh...Jake? I-It’s Jake. Jake English.”

 

“Jake, I don’t care  _ what  _ kind of lapse in cognitive thought brought you up here, temporal or otherwise!” He growls, “And I certainly don’t care how much you prostrate yourself on your personal cross in front of this door. I want you gone!  _ Now!” _

 

“Buh…” You start to protest, drawing your shoulders back a little. Now the hostility is becoming unreasonable, even for you. Won’t he at least accept an apology?

 

Gathering up your moxy, pushing your glasses up again, you start to speak. “Now, hold on just a moment!”

 

“I will not  _ hold on  _ for anything! I refuse to speak with you any further!”

 

Your tone starts to drop into something more on the side of annoyed. “Not even for all my offers of apologies? Really?!”

 

“You  _ walked right in  _ without knocking, tried to strike up conversation before I was dressed, and made assumptions of my identity based on my physical characteristics, and I will not be hounded like this mere  _ hours  _ after my arrival here!!”

 

It’s the mild  _ pop  _ of sound - of space becoming void, collapsing, then filling again with something in its place - which catches your attention and makes you stop mid-answer. Turning aside, glancing just a few stairs below, you see Jade: a bundle of bedsheets in her arms, thick dark hair pulled back by a bright green scrunchie, ears pricked forward. She looks at the door, then looks at you. The disappointment in her face is immediate. “What the hell is going on here?”

 

The troll thrusts his head out and opens the door, startling you back a bit. You vaguely notice that he is now clothed, if only in that cutesy green pajama top which is obviously Jade’s. Naturally, it’s also far too large for him. It’s practically a dress on his skinny frame.

 

God, now that you’re getting a look at his face, actually...you can see the shape of his skull behind his eyes. But given the current escalation, maybe asking after his health is a bad idea.

 

_ “Jade, _ oh thank God.” He points at you angrily, jabbing at the air with one bony finger. “This awful intruder went straight into your room unannounced and he has been accosting me ever since he arrived!”

 

Jade’s ears pin forward on the top of her head, green eyes snapping to you as alarm creeps into her features. Your hands go up in surrender instantaneously. “I made a mistake!”

 

“What were you doing running in on my room?!”

 

“It was  _ my  _ room in my timeline, I didn’t -”

 

Jade groans. “Jaaaake! I  _ asked  _ you about this! I asked you if it would be alright for me to have the room!”

 

“You asked me if I fancied a visit!”

 

“Yes, in which case, I also asked if you would want to keep the room  _ for when you visit!  _ Geez!”

 

Was that how it went? God, at this point, you can barely remember. Your brain is like a steel goddamn trap, except the times when it’s like a slice of fresh swiss cheese. Which always seems to be at the most inappropriate times. You can’t tell if the way your dark-brown skin turns red is from frustration or embarrassment.

 

_ “Regardless,  _ I assure you, I had no intention of upsetting Mister… ah -”

 

“I don’t care if he intended to adopt a barrel full of hopbeasts and turn this tower into a hopbeast sanctuary!” The troll exclaimed, “Please, for heaven’s sake, remove him from my sight!!”

 

“Jake, what are you doing here?” Jade sighed, ignoring the troll’s ranting for the time being with a heavy sigh, nursing at her temples with one hand.

 

While you debate on how to respond, the troll only seems to grow more distressed. “Jade,  _ please!” _

 

Oh, he’s not going to like your answer. You already anticipate backlash. Your shoulders scrunch up practically to your ears. “...I was...uh...planning on a bit of an extended visit?”

 

And...yep. Here come the stares. From both Jade  _ and  _ the strange troll.

 

You smile nervously. “Is this...a bad time?”

 

The troll immediately glares at Jade. “I am  _ not  _ comfortable letting this man  _ anywhere  _ near my general vicinity!”

 

Jade actually  _ snarls,  _ her upper lip curling in an almost beastly display that surprises you. Reminds you of the fact that she’s still got those fierce Becquerel genes spliced into her now as she warps away, then appears again, but this time with her arms empty. She smiles with big, fanged teeth, ears pinned back as she claps her hands.  _ “Okay!  _ Family meeting!”

 

Beside you, there is an exclamation of shock. “Family  _ what?” _

 

“Oh, dear,” you groan.

 

_ “Family meeting!!”  _ Jade reiterates, stronger than before. In a quick flash of teleportations, she gets on your level, grabs you and the gray-skinned stranger, and warps all three of you down to the foyer - much to the dismay of a certain portly fellow who had been napping when you arrived.

 

By this point, you’re not quite sure how much of you is irritated with the stranger and how much of you feels sorry for him. Being moved without notice was the last straw for him, apparently. He is  _ beyond  _ livid - oh, you can see it in his face, he is just  _ fuming,  _ but he purses his lips tight and makes a low noise of distress. Apparently he doesn’t want to yell at Jade.

 

“Everybody pick a seat! John, wake up,” Jade barks, nudging at him rather in a way he does not like. He  _ groans  _ while you quickly look around, thinking it the smart thing to listen to the little lady. Your eyes settle on the lounge chair by the fireplace and you take to it like a duck to water, plopping right down and claiming your space while John complains and Jade briefly brings him up to speed. As she rapidly works to initiate the unplanned gathering, however, the poor troll from upstairs stands frozen in place. You observe his arms are up at his sides, fingers flexing frantically before he lifts them, and rakes them anxiously through his hair.

 

When Jade catches on, she is apologetic, though apparently at a loss for how to fix it. “Sorry, Kankri. Last time it’ll happen, I promise.”

 

Kankri (what an odd name) is  _ dragging  _ his fingers through his black hair, rubbing roughly at the base of his horns. John, meanwhile, watches the whole scene with a bewildered expression. He doesn’t look like he has a single earthly clue why he’s being dragged into this. (Frankly, you’re not sure either, but you’re not about to ask Jade.)

 

“I can use. The  _ teleporters.  _ Myself.” Kankri snaps, “I do  _ not.  _ Like. To be  _ touched.” _

 

Sweet Jiminy Christmas, what kind of a mess have you stepped into?

 

“I know, and I’m sorry!” Jade tries to placate him, gesturing to the opposite couch. The one not currently occupied. “Can you please just sit?”

 

He throws his arms down with a growl. “I don’t see how this is a debate, he is clearly a rude and unbecoming character and I will not tolerate him in -”

 

“Well that’s not your decision to make, whether you like it or not,” Jade replies, interrupting him. “Listen, I get that you’re upset, but that’s why I want us to talk about this? Like civilized people do? Besides, this is  _ my  _ house, and...technically, Jake’s family. So it’s  _ our  _ house. You’re still a guest here.”

 

This phrase is, surprisingly, the first thing that gets Kankri to go quiet since you’ve accidentally met him. He glares at Jade again, looking alarmingly small. It doesn’t help that he’s standing opposite her,  _ rail-thin  _ and  _ drowning  _ in her green bunnies-and-deer pajama shirt.

 

Jade arches an eyebrow, hands on her hips. “Trust me, I’ll still be the first person to admit Jake’s not always the brightest with thinking stuff through, but I’m less willing to meet you halfway if you’re going to act all bull-headed. I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm.”

 

“I - I really didn’t,” you say, raising one hand. Kankri snaps his bitter gaze in your direction, and Jade doubles it. You press back and stick your hands in your lap like a scolded child. “I’m just...saying. I did apologize.”

 

Kankri rolls his eyes. Scoffs. Then, with visible reluctance, takes his seat on the empty couch. He starts to pick at the hem of Jade’s sleeves, then course corrects to finger-combing his hair again and digging his knuckles into his horns.

  
John sits up, grabbing his glasses from the coffee table with a sigh. “Excuse me,” he says at last, “not to break up the chaos or anything. But  _ what the fuck.” _


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm honestly really glad to be over all the "introductory" chapters because, I gotta say, that was the most boring part of the setup for me. Now I get to do all the REALLY fun stuff.

The impromptu “family meeting” takes several long minutes, but by the end of it, Jade has worked out some kind of witch magic which results in a few things: Kankri  _ finally  _ calming down, for starters. John being roughly in the loop of what to do and what  _ not  _ to do with new visitors. And you...sitting there. In your chair. Feeling every bit the foolish and cowardly buffoon you know that you are.

 

Kankri still takes every opportunity, it seems, to take shots at you and the fact that you (apparently) mistreated him in a most grievous fashion. It continues for almost half the meeting until both Jade and John put their foot down about it. John’s was a little more surprising - Jade’s less so. (“Dude, lay off him, he said that he’s sorry.” John groaned, “What more do you want?”) Annoyed and cross though you are about the outcome - Kankri never apologizes for his words, but does admit perhaps your intentions weren’t so crude, in a weird roundabout way? - you can’t help but to retreat into shame regardless at the end of the day. At its core, the whole situation was a misunderstanding: an accident of thoughtlessness. One you are certainly determined not to have again so long as you are here in this tower. Or ever.

 

Speaking of, when you ask Jade about where you might be able to stay, the answer is not quite the one you expected.

 

“You can have the lab on the top floor,” she tells you.

 

You blink owlishly in return. “The - the lab?”

 

“Yeppers.” Jade points up to the ceiling. “It’s on the floor right above mine, and since I took the main room and Kankri’s staying on the floor below the garden, that’s basically yours now.”

 

The bridge of your nose scrunches up. “Is...is it actually a lab, or…?”

 

Jade squints, her upper lip curling. “I don’t know? If not, it’s definitely an empty room. I haven’t been up there because I kind of don’t like going to that floor.”

 

“Oh,” you say, rather deflated. In the grand scheme of things, perhaps it makes the most sense. The only real rub is...how much effort might it take for you to turn the stark, sterile conditions of a laboratory into something livable?

 

“It’s not so bad!” Jade insists, “I’ll help you get set up with whatever you need if something’s missing. Just not today. I’m still setting up Kankri’s room and  _ maaaan!”  _ She leans back a bit, stretching her arms, tail extending behind her. “Teleporting this much really takes the wind outta you, y’know?”

 

John snickers. Jade grins as they exchange a look. “I dunno, Jade, I think you’ve got plenty of  _ space  _ for some spare battery power, don’t you?”

 

“Mmmmmaybe!” Jade chirps, delighted by John’s answer. “I sure  _ hope  _ so, since I’ve got my work cut out for me!”

 

“Hey, I mean, if you need a helping hand.” John shrugs, now grinning from ear to ear. “I know you’re pouring a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into this place.”

 

Kankri  _ rolls  _ his eyes and groans, apparently understanding the exchange at about the same time that you do. He reacts by curling in on himself and hiding his face in his hands.

 

“Oh! Oh, it’s - hah!” You grin as the bits click together in your head, giggling a bit. “That’s clever.” (That last part is more to yourself than anything with the way the room falls quiet, but still!) After a moment of thought, you turn, and look at Kankri with some interest - possibly even an in at some friendly conversation. Maybe. “So, you were a blood player! That’s like Karkat then, isn’t it?”

 

John speaks up, arms draped over his lap as he leans forward in his seat. “Well, given that he’s a Vantas, I think that’d be the most obvious conclusion. Kanaya’s explained before how they all shared aspects with their counterparts.”

 

“Is he?” You wonder, looking at John, then Kankri again. “Are you? Oh, wait, I see!” Gesturing to his head, you add: “The horn shape! And the eyes! Yes, I see the resemblance.”

 

Kankri turns his head and gives you a withering look, forehead resting on his hands. “Congratulations, you know shapes and colors. Do you want a medal?”

 

Jade admonishes him with a shocked gasp. “Kankri!”

 

Your face falls almost immediately into a scowl. “Now look here, man. I’m just trying to make pleasant conversation. There’s no need to insult my intelligence.”

 

“Well, forgive me if I don’t feel much like speaking.” He grumbles (avoiding any apology again, you notice), “I have thus far had an incredibly exhausting existence.”

 

“Hey, news flash.” John sighs, “Join the club. We’re  _ all  _ tired at this point, but you don’t see us throttling random strangers over it.” Peering at Kankri in scrutiny, he then adds: “Frankly I gotta say, based on my vague recollection of SBURB and all the stories from Karkat, you’re a pretty shitty blood player.”

 

Kankri flicks his hands up with an irritated look, straightening his back. “I am  _ not  _ a damn blood player! Can we  _ please  _ not discuss this?”

 

“Oh.” Jade (and you and John, a little) watches on, confused. “You’re...not?”

 

Kankri grunts bitterly. “I mean, yes. I was. But it doesn’t matter. It  _ didn’t  _ matter. Nothing we did ever mattered.”

 

Gosh, what a grim fellow. You have to wonder what went down to give him such a sunny outlook on things. (Would he bite your head off if you asked? Probably.)

 

“I mean, your session scratched and ended up creating Alternia, didn’t it?” John points out. “That counts for something. It did for us.”

 

“Ah, the pounding headache that is SGRUB’s crappy chicken-versus-the-egg A/B timeline feedback loop.” Kankri huffs, smiling wryly as he looks up. “ _ Perfect.  _ I  _ almost  _ had that scrubbed from my memory.”

 

John, ignoring Kankri’s sour disposition altogether, flashes a tense smile. “You’re welcome!”

 

It’s when Kankri looks ready to jump up and take on a man several steps above his weight class (seriously, he’s like 80 pounds soaking wet, at best) that you step in for a subject change. “Ah, er, Jade, not to be an old sourpuss, but I do have a rather important question? Until such time as my room is arranged on the top floor…” you pause, then give her a questioning smile. “Where am I to sleep? Is there a spare bed? Or...a cot? Sleeping bag?”

 

Jade thinks about it, glancing off to the side in consideration. Then she shrugs, and points to John’s couch.

 

It’s your fault for being late to the party, you suppose.

 

* * *

 

You have to sit on it for a little over forty-eight hours before you’re willing to try again at making peace with Kankri. In that span of time, you rest for the evening on the couch in the foyer - which isn’t so bad, it’s actually quite comfortable - and Jade finishes setting up Kankri’s room, then works with you to furnish the lab.

 

It turns out that said lab is rather empty (to Jade’s apparent relief), except for a broken fenestrated wall and some fixtures: counters and cabinets, mostly. The fenestrated wall won’t turn on, and is covered with a white sheet, but both of you know exactly what it is. Beyond that, Jade provides you with enough basics to get by. Bed. Desk. Dresser. Computer. A TV on a stand, which is more an extra, but it’s still generous. Checking that you have working heat and plumbing up top - creating a bathroom space in and of itself is a challenge that takes a ton of unexpected time, as it turns out, since there wasn’t one on the top floor. But you figure it out! Kind of. The two of you end up building a quick, ramshackle space around the chemical shower as a placeholder. And until that can be addressed, a trip down to one of the lower levels is required, should you need to take a piss and the like. Setting up a toilet is an adventure in the mechanics of piping and is a problem for Future Jake to tackle. At least for now, you have guaranteed privacy in the event of a shower.

 

Then she sort of just...leaves you be. It’s not exactly the home that you’re used to, but it’s a home! And hey, bonus? Freedom to redecorate. The possibilities are endless! You’d really been considering an overhaul on your posters for a long time anyway, and now’s the perfect time to execute that long-abandoned plan.

 

Some asking after Jade eventually leads you to discover that the teleporter on Kankri’s floor is situated in what will eventually be a living room space, by best guess. And although she highly recommends you not drop in, she can’t exactly stop you, once it’s common knowledge it won’t take you into the middle of his room. You bring a little something with you: a lucky rabbit’s foot that you’ve managed to keep on your person since you were young. Honestly, in all the craziness of SBURB and everything in general, you almost forgot that you had it. It was assumed perhaps it had fallen out of your pocket at some point, but, nope! Still there. Hanging on like a champ. And you couldn’t be happier for the fact; what a lucky little rabbit’s foot it is. You expect nothing less from one of your very first kills. It’s a bit worn down now and not quite as fluffy and white as it used to be, but that’s alright. You’ve had it for long enough. It feels like it’s time to pass the luck along to someone who really needs it.

 

The teleporter winks you into existence in the empty main chamber, and very little deductive power is required to discover Kankri’s room. It’s the red door to the right with Karkat’s same sign painted on the front in black. Nice and simple.

 

Approaching with a fair bit of caution, it - admittedly - takes you a moment of staring down the symbol before attempting anything. The door itself is almost more frightening than the possible wrath of the person behind it. But! You must persevere! If not for his well-being, then for yours. You simply cannot let it pass that you’ve done such a wrong without some serious apologies. (One that might crack through Kankri’s hard-shelled exterior this time, perhaps.)

 

“One moment!” The response is happier than you expect; or just more welcoming. But it turns out that’s just because he didn’t figure you to be the one on the other side, because when he opens the door, you think you see a smile - which disappears like a puff of smoke as soon as he registers your presence.

 

You wave, smiling, holding the rabbit’s foot in hand like it might bless you with one last ounce of its mystical properties. “Hi -”

 

Kankri immediately starts to close the door. Fuck! Wait! No!

 

You smack an arm against the red-painted wood, possibly a bit quicker than you meant to, and wedge yourself into the open crack. Only a bit. “Wait, wait, please don’t! I would just like a second! A moment of your time!”

 

Kankri tries to shove you out, although he hasn’t the bodily strength for it. You feel him pushing at your arms, your chest, but he’s like a sad bundle of toothpicks compared to your broad-shouldered frame. He doesn’t stand a chance. Still, you withdraw, respecting his obvious desire to maintain vigilance at his own door. A hand remains on the doorknob to prevent him closing it. He huffs, then scowls at you; not wearing very much in the way of clothes, though it seems Jade at least went out and got him some sweats and a shirt. Which are still a bit too big on him.

 

“What do you want?” He snaps.

 

Your hands clasp together as you speak. Sometimes you sink down a bit in the knees to emphasize your words. “To really, truly,  _ sincerely  _ apologize for how I showed up unannounced.”

 

Kankri arches an eyebrow. “And you thought to do that by forcing your presence on me yet again when it’s patently unwanted?”

 

Ahhh, you just can’t win, can you? You can feel your smile turning tense. Point though he may have, you still can’t help feeling a little put out. How the hell else were you supposed to come up to him?

 

“Must I beg forgiveness the old-fashioned way?” You wonder. After a thought, you add: “If it would please you, I could even scrub your floors, if that’s what it takes! Put a bit of elbow grease into it, hm? Pay off my guilty debt in chores? A regular Cinderella, no?”

 

Kankri… _ stares  _ at you. You’re...really not quite sure whether that’s good or bad. He gives no indication either way? Was that funny to him? Too much? Too soon for a few good knee-slappers here and there?

 

And then he looks away, his shoulders going slack. “That won’t be necessary.” (Ah! Guilt, maybe? Second thoughts?)

 

You beam a bit, naturally, feeling good with the progress - however small. “Look, I’m not saying we have to be all chummy right away but since we -”

 

His nose curls mid-sentence. The reaction stops you cold. “Something wrong?”

 

Kankri makes a non-descript noise, then waves one hand in dismissal. “No. Continue.”

 

Huh. Weird. But it’s fine if he doesn’t want to talk about whatever it was.

 

“Well, anyway, as I was saying. We don’t have to be friends, necessarily. But since it seems we’ll be sharing the same house for a while, maybe we could try to be a bit civil? I really do feel bad about...well,  _ everything  _ from the other day. I put you in quite the pickle and, understandably, it’s made you very upset. But I don’t want to do that anymore. Accidental or no.” Sometimes your hands move while you go on. He isn’t looking away yet; maybe he’s finally paying attention, rather than just steamrolling you with negativity? “So, consider this my solemn promise, Kankri Vantas! I will do my utmost to be a perfect gentleman and host. I’ve heard from Jade that your arrival was quite unexpected. Well, you’ve nothing to fear! The Harley-English house is a welcoming one indeed!”

 

You pump your fist with some heartfelt enthusiasm. “It’s been a party of one on this island for too long, as is! In  _ both  _ timelines! I think it’s a swell turning of the tides to have some roommates.”

 

Kankri furrows his eyebrows together, watching you with a look that is nothing short of puzzled. “...Thank you.” He says, slowly, “I appreciate that...I suppose. Just...don’t. Don’t ever go into my room, and don’t bother me if I say to let me be.” He then adds after a pause, “And don’t touch me.”

 

Right! Yes. The touching. Touching is bad...wait a minute. “Not even for, like, a handshake?” You check. “Friendly pats to the shoulder -?”

 

Kankri snaps back quickly: “No. Nothing. Especially nothing blatantly or bordering on concilliatory. I don’t trust you, or anyone else coming and going from this tower, not to that degree. In fact, it’s quite likely that I never will. Just keep your hands to yourself. Understand?”

 

...What the fuck is  _ concilliatory?  _ Is that some kind of - it must be a quadrant thing. You vaguely recall a definition of that nature from a few old talks with Kanaya. Perhaps someone would be willing to refresh your memory; you certainly don’t want to risk accidentally crossing another boundary you weren’t meant to.

 

He seems to sense your confusion, since his follow-up question is instant disappointment. “You don’t even know what I meant with concilliatory, do you.”

 

“Not a bit!” You reply merrily. “Don’t worry though, I can find it out! That’s what asking questions is for, after all!”

 

Kankri visibly hesitates for a moment before he, in a startlingly calm and wary tone, offers, “I could...probably tell you, if you don’t know.”

 

“No, it’s no trouble!” You wave your hands, shake your head. That really would be asking too much. “I wouldn’t want to bother you. I’ll just keep it in mind! Either way, the old mitts stay off, yes? That much, I comprehend!”

 

“Hmmm.” Something about the discussion has left a sour taste in his mouth, from the way he crinkles his nose and sneers, but you haven’t the faintest where you went wrong. Honestly, this is the calmest he’s been since you arrived. You’re not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. At some point, his eyes glance down, spying your gift. “...What in the world is that?”

 

“Oh, this? It’s a present for you!” You hold it up, dangling the foot by its silver chain. “A rabbit’s foot! It’s considered a lucky charm here on Earth. I’ve had this one for a while, actually. He was one of the first things I caught all by myself after my Gram died.”

 

You look down fondly upon the foot, smiling in a brief state of bliss as you think back upon that day. Honestly, recalling it now, it’s all pretty mundane: you were a silly little boy back then. Barely knew how to set up a proper trap. Truly, it’s a miracle you even caught the bastard at all, and you think if it weren’t for your horrible stomach-eating hunger, you would have missed him altogether. “Ah, he was such a pretty rabbit. He saved my life that day. It was a lucky time indeed!”

 

“...Not so lucky for the rabbit,” Kankri grumbles. You suddenly sense, at the growing disgust in his features, that your gift idea isn’t much of a hit. Your smile falls, because really, what the fuck else are you going to offer if this physical symbol of giving a piece of yourself in peacemaking doesn’t work?

 

“Not looking to carry a bit of fortune in your back pocket?”

 

Kankri physically coils back from the door, leering at you with bright red eyes. “I’m not so keen on the thought of carrying a dead animal’s severed foot on my person, no. If I’m being perfectly honest, it disturbs me that you call the hopbeast ‘lucky’ when you probably ended up killing it, cutting off its foot as a souvenir, then eating it for dinner.”

 

His phrases stab deeper than any knife ever could. Your eyebrows crease together in distress. “But the point isn’t what happened to the rabbit? The point is what the rabbit’s life bequeathed upon death. The foot is...symbolic...it’s - you know what.” You sigh, holding the rabbit’s foot out in an open palm. Really, it was the same way with Jane. She never could get past the part where yes, you did, in fact, have to hunt and skin and eat the beasties on your island in order to have dinner. All by yourself. Just you and your traps and your guns. “Please, just take it? This is the only olive branch I’ve got. The intent is that it was special to me and I believe it would give you a good turn of fate if you held onto it. Always felt like it did for me.”

 

“Eugh!” Kankri shrinks away a few inches behind the door, then glares. “Absolutely not! I want nothing to do with your stinking little animal foot!”

 

Now, at this point, any polite gentleman would try to keep up appearances. But you really don’t feel like it right now. Sure, a lot of your childhood enthusiasm for hunting and adventuring was based in play, but that doesn’t make the spiritual part of it any less real. No one in your circle seems to really get that except maybe two people. (Karkat doesn’t count. Karkat doesn’t seem to put much significance, spiritual or otherwise, in the energy exchange that occurs when one consumes the flesh of another creature. It’s all just empty survival tactics to him.) The fact that this disconnect is once again being thrown in your face leaves you feeling more than a little despondent, especially after Kankri’s done nothing but try to cut you down with his words, after  _ everything  _ you’ve repeatedly said. So you go for the next best thing: a half-hearted flick of the wrist and hoping for the best.

 

“Look, Kankri, you can throw it in the trash, or out the window, or whatever you want, if you don’t like it. I don’t care. I lost everything else to my name after we started our session. I’m sorry about how we met, and this is my attempt to show some modicum of sincerity. Just take the damn foot.”

 

Kankri makes another disgusted noise, then, with no preamble, shuts the door with a heavy  _ thump.  _ You hear the turning of the lock shortly after.

 

Breathe in. Breathe out.  _ Sigh. _ Stare in mild despair at the angry red door and its constricting black symbol staring you dead in the face.

 

At first, you turn and walk right back to the teleporter. No use trying to drag it out. May as well just let his anger run its course...if it  _ ever  _ runs its course. But. When you get to the pad, you stop, and look over your shoulder. Thinking.

 

You end up setting the rabbit’s foot on the ground just outside the door before warping back to the lab.

 

Give it time, you think. He’s obviously a very troubled person. He could still change his mind.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter: a summary of the first month.
> 
> Next chapter: a summary of the following couple of months, probably.

**Week One**

* * *

 

There’s not enough time or energy in the day to explain your complicated relationship with gestures of caretaking and the intent laying within them. So when Jade finished setting up all your furnishings and bestowing you with a room, you were once again forced to take her generosity at face value - as you suppose you will be for as long as you are staying here, if something can’t be done to fix it. At the moment, you’ve not a single clue how to even _begin_ tackling that, though. There’s so much to absorb already: the punishment, it seems, for being deposited on a world not meant for you is that there is no baseline.

 

You have to start over. For _everything._ And there is _so much_ for you to learn.

 

Your first few days are spent - you must confess - wallowing, and getting situated. You try not to spend too much time feeling sorry for yourself; there are attempts to make yourself useful. Mostly, you clean. And eat. And try not to think too much about does this mean _Jade_ is your new culler now? Because clearly that’s not how this dynamic works, especially if you won’t let it. If you’re giving something back to the house and its inhabitants, they can’t cull you. And they’re human. It’s different. Still, you have no idea what they’re capable of, and for heaven’s sake, Jade is fused with a _First Guardian._ She’s not just a god; she’s a fucking timeless expanse of raw power. One you are keen not to piss off for the duration of your stay.

 

When it seems enough time has been wasted on sadness, you ask Jade for a stack of large notebooks and some writing utensils. It makes your stomach curl to know you have to _ask her_ for _everything,_ but powering through it is its own reward: one day she brings you not one, but _two_ stacks of notebooks, each almost as tall as you are, and a box full of colorful pens and pencils which she says she no longer uses herself. The pièce de résistance, though, is a large, blank, red leather book. It is thicker than your arm and bound together with thick cord in the spine. A clasp keeps it shut on the front until you pull the rotating metal hook in order to open it. You decide to use that one as your personal journal. The rest of them are going to be for record keeping.

 

As soon as the opportunity presents itself, the computer in your room is set up with your credentials - including a pesterchum handle, which doesn’t take you long at all to get accustomed to. Then you sit down, open up a notebook, and pick a subject. You decide to start with history, supplementing with laying in bed and brushing up on pop culture whenever articles start to blur together on the monitor.

 

Your hand hurts from writing by the end of the week, but that doesn’t matter. The pain keeps you grounded as much as the ink does. Bleeding ink onto the pages to solidify your lessons and questions and personal footnotes gives you purpose. This is what you were meant for, and you soak up every bit of information you come across as hungrily as you eat whatever Jade brings you. The physical appetite slows by the weekend; the intellectual one does not.

 

You forget about the ugly rabbit’s foot that you kicked away from the door. It stopped somewhere at the foot of the stairs.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Week Two**

* * *

 

A knock at the door one day pulls you up from the middle of a study session about the many branching structures of this world’s political and social strata. Rather than immediately get up and answer it, you pause the video you’re watching on the computer and turn your head to listen. “Who is it?”

 

“A friend!” Says a cheery voice from the other side. “I don’t believe we’ve met!”

 

Considering the only person who is permitted unfettered access to your room after knocking is Jade… “Sorry, could this wait? I’m in the middle of something.”

 

“Well, I suppose it could, but I just finished icing these cupcakes and they’re reeeeally tasty!”

 

Baked confections brought in bulk by a mysterious feminine presence...a little deductive reasoning, and you get up from the desk to cross the room. Turns out your guess - you find, opening the door - was correct. A stout, fat young woman with bright red glasses (they remind you of Aranea) and deeply tanned skin stands across you.  She has pixie cut hair brushed up in a messy tussle, and presents you with a plastic tray full of yellow cupcakes with bright blue and white icing.

 

“...You must be Jane Crocker,” you say, giving the woman another look. She’s only a little shorter than you, dressed in high-waisted pants and a puffy blue blouse. Jade’s mentioned her before, but you haven’t seen her in person until now. She smiles, pushing the tray out further.

 

“Sure am! Kankri, right? Welcome to Earth C!”

 

Another look down at the cupcakes gives you pause. Not necessarily in a good way. “I...appreciate your offer, but I don’t think I could stomach any right now.”

 

“You sure? They’re lemon! They’re really delicious!” Jane waits a moment, eyes flicking up and down over your body. She then adds: “Call them celebration cupcakes. Or welcome cupcakes. Either one fits!”

 

“Again, thank you, but I don’t want any.” You put your hands up, a scowl crossing your face.

 

“Please? If you’re already looking this good after a couple weeks, imagine what having a few yummy lemon cupcakes will do!”

 

Your lips purse together. “Flattery won’t convince me to reach for them any faster.”

 

Jane apparently can’t take refusal for an answer. Her smile grows more forced. “Come on, Jade helped me make these. Mixed the batter all by herself. She’s been super excited all day about what you might think.”

 

“If that’s true, then why doesn’t she bring them down herself?”

 

“She’s got her hands full with some other new arrival.” Jane says, arching an eyebrow with a smirk. “Somebody moving in downstairs? I think some spritely version of Dave? Anyway, point being, she’s setting them up. So I took the liberty to jump the gun, as it were!”

 

You look at the cupcakes, then at Jane again, frown never leaving your features. “I really can’t eat that many,” you mention.

 

She laughs. “Well, good. They’re not all for you, silly.”

 

“Funny. Any time she feeds me it’s always several portions wrapped up in one.”

 

“Well, do you eat them all?”

 

You’re almost certain that the disgust has never been stronger in your face. “We don’t talk about my apparent unnaturally bottomless hunger.”

 

“Being dead sure does look like it does a number on the body,” Jane agrees. She nudges the tray at you again, rising up on the balls of her feet this time in anticipation. “C’mon! Just take one. If I see you have a bite and at least get some feedback, I’ll take the rest and pass the word on to Jade. Whaddya say?”

 

Why is it that trying to convince others to leave you alone is such a trial of leaping through hoops? You breathe in, then out, sighing heavily as you take in the sight of the baked goods again. They really will probably be far too sweet for you, but if it will get Jane away from your door, perhaps some sacrifices will have to be made.

 

It takes little effort to peel the paper wrapping away from the cupcake that you pick up. The treat itself is still a little warm, but not enough to cause issues with the decadent icing on top. The wrapper comes away clean, and the cake itself is a bright, fluffy,  sunny yellow color. You consciously throw an anxious look in Jane’s direction, and she’s still standing there, waiting for you to bite into it. With a groan, finally, you do. You cover your mouth with one hand as you chew.

 

What the fuck, this is actually fucking delicious.

 

“Good?” Jane checks, beaming from ear to ear.

 

You swallow down your first bite, eyebrows furrowed together. “It’s... _delightful?”_

 

“Gosh, you don’t have to sound so upset about it!” She laughs. “If you want another, you can go ahead and take one. Take a few, if you like!”

 

“No, no. One is enough,” you insist, tentatively biting off another mouthful. Oh, God. _Fuck._ You were never privy to such delectable treats back home. Is this what all the highbloods were busy getting fat on? While you were stuck taking lessons and doing shows?! You’ve been _robbed._

 

Jane seems less bothered by the fact that you won’t take any more cupcakes now that you’ve actually committed to eating one. But the next question that leaves her mouth as she leans in curiously sets your nerves on fire. “If you want, how about you come upstairs and join us for lunch?”

 

You grab the doorknob, giving Jane a dark look. “No.”

 

The door swings shut, closing in her face with a heavy thump and a click of the lock.

 

* * *

  

When writing is too painful and watching television is too sedentary, you take to teleporting outside for a walk along the beach. The first time this happens, it’s past moonrise, and you end up strolling the perimeter of the island aimlessly. Even the moonlight is brighter than you’re used to here, but the scenery is something to be admired. It could just be the general energy of Jade’s island, but life here is teeming in abundance, from flora and fauna alike. Birds and other various wildlife make their evening calls from every direction, and the greenery is lush and tropical. There’s always some leaf or another brushing against your legs as you walk. The ground is endlessly covered in old leaf litter and bits and sticks, scattered randomly over the dirt, which is rich and soft. The dark earth has a give under your toes that reminds you of a forested community on Beforus which became your home shortly before the session started. You were dreaming about it last night, in fact. It’s shameful to think you’d almost forgotten about it.

 

Hours pass by like nothing at all. Thirst and hunger barely cross your mind. At one point you crouch beside a small spring, cupping your hands in it and taking a few sips after verifying that the water is clean. A fruit growing on a tree that you recognize from Jade’s kitchen gets plucked from the branches and you eat it raw. And that’s enough to whet the appetite for a continued casual exploration of your surroundings.

 

You’re halfway around the back of the island, three steps from a sharp cliff drop, when Jade warps in. She stands off to one side, looking concerned. “Kankri, are you coming back inside?”

 

Glancing at her, you pull a gray wrap tighter around your shoulders, because even the slightest breeze still feels like too much against your skin. “I’m fine. Still having a walk.”

 

“Yeah, but you’ve been out for _hours._ Sure you aren’t hungry?”

 

There is a sigh. If the worry is starting to settle, you have a feeling she’ll keep coming back to check in. May as well complete the circuit later. “I’ll return in a moment,” you say, eyes turning out onto the water and the stars.

 

“I could teleport you back. Might be easier,” Jade offers. “I mean, I guess you could walk back, but you’re pretty far from the closest tele-pad.”

 

“I’d much prefer the walk, thank you.”

 

She sighs, possibly a bit annoyed with you, but there’s no way you’ll let her touch you again - even if it would let you get back to the tower in the blink of an eye. “If you say so.”

 

Silence passes for a time after. The ocean and its distant sounds captivate you from the cliffside. Eventually, Jade, in a hopeful voice, asks: “Enjoying the view?”

 

Being honest in your answer, you say, “It is quite lovely here.”

 

“Is it as pretty as Beforus?”

 

Your stomach knots up, mouth set in a grim line. “It’s...incomparable.”

 

As far as you’re aware, Beforus was never anything but one set of walls after another. One culler after the next. There was a time shortly before SGRUB where you managed to get out, and you’ll be ever thankful to the bronzeblood who sheltered you in the aftermath. The taste of freedom was the sweetest of all, however briefly it blessed you. Beforus was ugliness wrapped in a package of glamor; the only people who missed it in your session were those who stood to benefit the most from its inherent prejudicial nonsense. (Horuss and Cronus, mostly. Kurloz. Aranea, though she would never admit it. Meenah was an odd case, but her inevitable planned hand in shaping the future of your people can’t exactly be ignored.)

 

Jade doesn’t know about any of that, though. “Oh? Was Beforus prettier?”

 

The response takes very little time. “Not even close.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Week Three**

* * *

 

A haircut is in order. The length of it is becoming bothersome.

 

Something that you still aren’t certain you’ll ever get used to is how _easy_ it is to access information in this world - on _literally anything._ It takes only a few hours to study up on basic DIY hairstyling from reputable videos on the Internet, focusing mostly on something close to what you want to accomplish. One shower and a little ingenuity with some fabric scissors later (because you refuse to ask Jade to pick up a set of products), you’re standing in front of the mirror, carefully snipping away at sections of your hair. The actual cutting does take a fair bit longer, but only because you’re extremely meticulous and paranoid about taking off too much or not enough. A more sensible person would just go to the salon, you suppose, but the last thing you want is strangers touching your head. Or to go out in public looking like a haggard little ragdoll.

 

When the work is finally finished, you take a look at yourself from all angles, running your fingers through your hair on the off occasion. It’s a little messy still. Nothing like the videos. That should be expected, though, you suppose. Still, even for an obvious hack job, it’s not that bad. At least now it won’t fall in your face all the time. There’s little bits that continue to curl along the lines of your cheekbones, but that will always be there. It hides the fact that you’re not quite done filling out in the face. Weight gain has been coming along faster than you anticipated, even after your appetite slowed, but you think perhaps it might finally be creeping towards a plateau.

 

Still not quite to where you were. You look over at your corset and leggings hanging on the hooks over the back of the bathroom door and give a wistful sigh. It’s better than it was when it arrived, but it will still be some time before you’re capable of wearing anything familiar again.

 

You can’t really control the way that your body recovers from being dead - which is the frustrating part. Instead, you focus on the things you _can_ control. Like the length of your hair.

 

The longer you spend looking in the mirror, the more you convince yourself you actually kind of like it. Which, again, it’s really not all that bad. It’s a little elegant, even. It’s smart. And it’s been a very long time since you’ve had your hair this short.

 

It feels good.


End file.
